


Native Rites

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Episode: s14e04 The Face Of Evil, F/M, Kinkmeme, Potency, Savages - Freeform, Shaman - Freeform, fertility, ritual sex magic, sevateem, space explorers to savages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For a Doctor Who LJ kinkmeme prompt: "Leela/Other member of the Sevateem tribe.  Fertility rites."A young women helps two members of her tribe find love and union with each other, while using the remnants of technology that none of them understand.  Prequel to the Fourth Doctor story "The Face of Evil."





	Native Rites

She was straight and strong and brown: Leela of the Sevateem, a girl just come into womanhood. She had stripped the flowers of childhood from her hair, and strove to always move with the smooth stride of a hunter, not the skipping of a child. She knew the ways of the jungle and the ways of the warrior, and if her tongue was sometimes too agile in its speaking, well, perhaps she would grow out of it.

Her father came to her one day as she sat in the shadow of their hut, winding fishing line on a spindle to straighten and dry it.

"Metta and Lutt are asking the blessing of the Con Goddess, She Who Gives Life, so that they may have a child." A little bit of his sureness fell away as he spoke. His daughter was fierce and opinionated, and he tried to think of a roundabout way to say the next part. "It would - it is our way that the youngest maiden should be blessed to carry the Goddess' presence to their bed, and…"

"And the youngest maiden would be me," Leela said, pouting just a little. Then she pouted harder, and snapped to her feet, her fingers reaching for the knife at her waist. The knife's handle was still a little too large for her grip, but she was practising for the day that it would fit. "And I have also heard that sometimes through the miracles of the Goddess, it is the maiden who swells with child, and not the wife."

He spread his fingers. "I am not ordering you, I am asking you. You are a free woman and a warrior. But - it would be an advantage, when the time came for you to choose a mate, if you had already borne the Goddess within you.

Leela felt a sting of nervousness within her; the tiniest fear that she might not be found strong enough, or beautiful enough, to be chosen as a wife.

"I will do it," she said, and "Good," said her father. It was his way.

She would have to go see the Shaman first. She did not like the Shaman, and he did not like her: he was a man who said what he thought the world should be, and pretended that those who spoke otherwise were wounding him. But she stood docilely while he sprinkled the cleansing powder on her hair and gave her the sacred vessel of metal and sky-ivory to carry in her hands. She stared down at its twenty eight tiny divots and wondered what they meant.

Then she went to the hut of the Eldest, so that the women could bless her body. With wrinkled fingers they painted the white spirals of fertility on her belly, the double helixes of strength and wisdom on her arms, and the star-patterns on her feet. They lettered the long chains of symbols across her face that meant womanhood. She waited with them, eating nothing and only drinking a little water. When the sun had set, leaving long shadows lying like fingers across the village, she rose and went outside.

The men who saw her, bare except for her paint, looked aside prudently: to stare at one so blessed was to mock the Goddess' blessing. Carrying the sacred vessel in front of her with both hands, she went to Metta's hut and gave the ritual greeting.

"I carry the Con Goddess, She who swells the wombs of women with children strong and wise. Let Her enter with me and bless you."

"Enter, O Goddess," came a woman's voice out of the hut, and the curtain of bark cloth was quickly pulled aside her for her. With stately and slightly self-conscious strides, Leela entered the hut. It was painfully clean, the pots and tools neatly put aside, but all of her attention was on the hut's other occupant.

Metta had always struck Leela as a rather silly woman, too easily distracted to become a warrior. She had dark hair in a married woman's braid, and eyes set a little too close together for beauty. Her too-large hands darted nervously in front of her. "Thank you, Leela, for bringing the Goddess to my home. I," she looked ready to cry, "I do not know what I will do if She does not bless me."

Leela closed her eyes and waited, to feel if the Goddess was going to speak through her. She felt nothing, but this only meant that the Goddess wanted her to say what she was planning on saying anyway - at least, this was Leela's interpretation.

"Is it that Lutt does not desire you? Is he a lover of men?" There were several such warriors in the tribe, but they had all married and managed to produce children, even if their hearts were for their fellow warriors and not their wives. One of them was the deadliest archer that Leela had ever seen. 

"No, no, not that. Please, um, O Goddess, please grace my bed." She gestured to the wide pallet covered with brushed furs, and Leela nodded and sat on the edge. The ritual vessel was carefully set by the tiny stone lamp, so that the light reflecting from it would illuminate the room.

Metta sat beside her, still agitated. "I fear that I am doing something wrong, or that the God has turned his force from my husband-"

"That cannot be, Metta. When the God withdraws from a man, his limbs falter and his vision grows dim. Lutt is still a fine warrior, everyone says so. A fine husband."

"I do not know what I am doing wrong, then!" Metta looked ready to tear out her hair with frustration.

"What did your woman-teacher show you when she taught you how to arouse a man, in case the God is sleeping in him?"

Metta stared at Leela with wide confused eyes, and she felt something drop in the pit of her stomach at that look of confusion.

"What?"

Perhaps that was it. "Metta, who was your woman-teacher?"

"It was Slinaw."

Leela winced inside. Slinaw had been very old when she died, and her mind had wandered far from her body before she went on.

Metta went on. "She told me some things, but it was - all mixed up. And she fell asleep a lot.…"

There was a regular thudding noise from outside, as the butt of a spear drummed the hard-packed soil. 

Lutt's voice was strong and sure. "I ask the blessing of the Goddess to enter my home."

"Enter with Her blessing," Leela said, and Lutt strode inside, racking his spear and checking that the curtain was closed with a single gesture. 

Leela's eyes were admiring on Lutt. His arms were strong with muscle, his skin smooth, and his shocking green eyes were like two gems in his brown face. He was beautiful.

He looked at Leela with anger in those beautiful eyes. "I wish that you were not here," he said bitterly. "I wish that my shame was not laid out to the whole village. But you are here, O Goddess, so I ask your blessing."

"There is no shame in calling on the Gods," she retorted, her own eyes narrow in her painted face. "But it is stupid to provoke their wrath by being rude to one who bears them."

Metta was sitting silent, eyes wet. "Lutt, please," she whispered. "Leela is only trying to help."

"There is no help for me." Abruptly, he unfastened the thongs at his hips and let his loincloth slide to his feet. "My manhood sleeps, no matter how I gaze upon my wife."

Leela looked. It did not appear to be withered or ill-formed. "Does it never send the milky drops to the God's river?"

"Only when I sleep," Lutt said, touching his penis with one hand. "And I cannot couple with my wife when I sleep. In truth, the eyes of my heart seem to be blind. I cannot think of anything that will make the river of the God run through me."

"So it is true," Metta said, in a tiny voice. "You do not love me."

Lutt looked at her, and without changing his expression he moved to her, kneeling and pressing his head into her lap, turning his face back and forth. When he looked up, his mouth quivered as though he was about to cry.

"Metta, I love you; I love you. It is not given to me by the God that I should love your body, but yes, I love you, your hair, your face, your kindness, your strength. All of you, I love. I wish nothing more than that I could give you children. It is the God in me, who does not love you."

"Perhaps it is just that you desire another woman." Metta's voice was still wounded.

"I have never desired anyone, I think." Lutt sighed, and rested his head on Metta's knees again. "Not a woman, not a man. Not even the powders of the Shaman can give me dreams that rouse the God in me."

"How can I believe that?" Metta pleaded.

"Because it is true," he said simply. "Because I would not lie to you."

"But how can I believe that?" Metta's hands were clenched at her sides. "You are a man to draw eyes; is it not that one of the other women has put some spell on you-"

"Hush!" and Leela's hand came down over her mouth. She leaned close to them and whispered, "Do not speak of curses, or the Shaman will be here casting spells over us all!"

They huddled closer for a second, frightened. Then Leela had an idea. She stood in the centre of the hut, back straight and one foot a little forward, and let her hands rise above her head, her hands set in the symbol of the womb and the spear.

"Goddess," she said clearly, "let me dance for Your blessing, let Your love come through me and into Metta; and if there is any impure magic here, let Your glory burn it away!"

She danced, feet pounding down on the earth, bare breasts jiggling, her long powdered hair seeming to stream behind her like a flame. She danced, her hands signalling on her body the strength of her lust, the power of her desire, the wanting of a man to fill her, to embrace her, to be one with her. She spun in the lamplight, a long brown flame that seemed to flicker like lightning, gleaming with sweat now, paint running down her body. Her voice was a long soft cry, now demanding, now pleading, now yearning. She spun and spun and spun, buoyed up by something outside of herself, floating on air, and then the rhythm in her head slowed and stopped, and she did as well.

She opened her eyes - when had she closed them? and met Metta's lustful gaze. Her face was flushed, and her pupils were huge in the dim light.

Leela suddenly wondered if she had been going about this the wrong way. Perhaps it was Metta-?

Lutt was just sitting there on the floor by the bed, staring at her.

"Well?" she asked him.

"Well what?" he said, oblivious.

"Do you feel anything?"

"No, should I? You dance very well," he added hastily, "I mean no insult, to you or to the Goddess. But - I feel nothing."

Leela smiled, and looked at Metta. "If he can see the Goddess dance in me, Metta, and not be moved, what mortal woman could have charmed him?"

"None," Metta said, still looking a little dazed. "That was - beautiful, Leela."

"Thank you," Leela smiled, and she held that smile as she sat beside Metta and gestured from Lutt to sit on the other side, so that Metta was between them. Gently, with murmured words of reassurance, she helped Metta to lie back, found the thongs and antler buttons that fastened her leather dress, and bared her body. 

She had a fine body, firm from labour but with ripe breasts and wide hips. Her nipples were erect, and her face was flushed with heat. 

"Lutt, give me your hand," and he gave it to Leela, looking puzzled and a little upset. "Touch her here, like this," and his hand slipped between her legs and stopped.

"I have tried this," he said. "It did not wake the God in me."

"Well, it will wake the Goddess in her," Leela replied a little tartly. "Sometimes you do for the one you love that which does not please you, am I right? Does it please you to re-thatch the roof in the rain, or to fight the siss bird to get eggs for Metta's cooking pot? It pleases you because it pleases her. So if you love her, show her with pleasure. Pretend that the God is not coming; do not worry about His presence. Think of her."

Lutt lay on one elbow, and stared down at the body of his wife. "I love you," he said, and repeated again as his fingers moved between her legs, finding her wet with excitement from Leela's dance. He moved his fingers very gently, in spirals around her inner thighs, running slick over her centre, following the expressions of her face more than Leela's words. Finally he knelt between his spread legs and let his tongue run over her, tracing the path his fingers had taken and then going deeper, moving faster than his fingers, spreading over her flesh and circling-

Metta shouted, her cry that of some wild thing. She shuddered, clutching her husband's head between her legs and then falling back into the furs, quivering with sweat.

"Nothing," said Lutt glumly, staring between his legs, and Leela gave him a rap on the brow with her knuckles, as though calling a child to account.

"Metta does not think it was nothing," she pointed out. 

"Leela, my man-teacher told me many ways of pleasing a woman, but every way ended with 'and then the God will rise in you and you will mate'. How can I - why - this pleases Metta, and she is sweet to my mouth, but it does not seem right to do this if the God is not here in me."

This time Leela reached out and stroked his head. "Perhaps the God is just - quieter in you, than in other men. Or perhaps you are called to do the Goddess' work instead, and please your woman. Come up and lie beside her."

He did so, and Metta reached out and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him over and over again. He met her kisses with his own, holding her, pressing his strong body close to hers. Leela lay and watched them, and deliberately tried to burn this memory into her mind: someday, she hoped she would kiss her husband like that.

"Lutt, I want you to look at Metta. Look at her, and think of her pleasure. Think of her happiness when you bring home a fine kill, or dance for her in the moonlight, or sing a song only for her. Think of her joy if you filled her with child, how the other men would admire you, how your daughter or your son would grow up straight and tall and beautiful to every eye. Think of your strength, of your body, and what happiness it would be to see children as strong as you." 

Lutt's eyes were closed, but he was smiling. "I can see them," he whispered. "Children golden as sunlight, with Metta's eyes…."

"Touch yourself, Lutt. Think of your manhood as the pillar you must raise to honour the God. Think of your wife's happiness, think of her love for you, think of your love for her. Your flesh will become as the forest trees, great and sturdy, unbending in any storm."

Lutt's hand was stroking his shaft, and his eyes opened wide as he felt himself swell. 

"That's it. That's it. Call the God to you with your mind, not with your heart. Rise because you-" and the rest of Leela's coaching was cut off as Lutt rolled on his side, turned his wife to face him, and pressed his erection between her thighs. She rubbed herself against him, wet and hot, and he groaned at the sensation. Metta's fingers were clever in guiding him, but once he was inside the fear started to work at him, sending little waves of uncertainty over his features. What if-?

Metta raised her leg high on her husband's side, and her hand dove between them to rub at his shaft, tickle his balls and that was enough. He came, eyes wide, shouting with delight.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, Metta, that was wonderful! I did it!"

"You did it," Metta smiled, and kissed him. Then she turned her head and kissed Leela. 

"Thank you, Goddess, for your blessing."

Leela smiled and accepted the kiss, and one from Lutt as well. 

"I did not think it would be like that," he confessed. "My teacher always talked as though the God would just fall on me, like rain."

"Well, I think that you will have to dig deep and climb high to find the God in you, Lutt. It is not a thing that will come easy, but there is no shame in that."

She kissed Metta more formally on the forehead. "May the sky river of stars flow from the God and into you, filling you with children."

Then a kiss for Lutt. "May the Con Goddess accept the stars you have sown and fill your wife with children."

Leela rose, the last bits of ritual pigment still speckling her brown flesh. Carefully, she picked up the sacred vessel with its alien text that she could not read ('Standard Male Oral Contraceptive Packet') and took it outside, to be returned to the Shaman's hut with appropriate ceremony.

The stars were bright tonight, and she stared up at them, smiling. She danced a little as she walked through the darkness, imagining the painted stars on her feet as steps on some ladder up to the sky.


End file.
